


The Demons Inside

by WeAreCylons



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 21:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8683690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeAreCylons/pseuds/WeAreCylons
Summary: „What do you mean you're tired of me hovering over you? I'm the only one who frakking really cares enough to check on you at least once a day.“Set in season 3 somewhere between "The Son Also Rises" and "Crossroads". Laura and Bill have their own individual struggles following her cancer diagnosis, most of it being about how close or distant their (working) relationship can and should be.





	

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Disclaimer: BSG (2003) and all the characters are property of Ron D. Moore. I merely borrowed his playthings to play a bit in his sandbox.

Enjoy! 

Jules xx

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„What do you mean you're tired of me hovering over you? I'm the only one who frakking really cares enough to check on you at least once a day.“ There it was. The anger that had been building up inside of him for the past week already, only made worse through her increasingly rejecting his offers to visit her after Quorum meetings or to come over for dinner. His disappointment over the fact that despite them having known each other for years by now, she was still holding back, refusing to let people in, even the ones she considered her closest. And his frustration over having loved this woman for so long and over hoping that one day, sooner than later, they would finally be able to enjoy life side by side – not always determined by their professional distance which he, of course, was aware had been necessary actually since the day they had met.

All of this had led them to this moment: Bill standing behind his desk, Laura on the other side, arms crossed and glaring at him over the rims of her glasses. “I mean that I am tired of you playing the mother hen and embarrassing me in public, Admiral. It is simply unprofessional and unacceptable of you to undermine my position with other people around, especially considering that I believe I should be the one to choose the time and place to tell the press and the fleet about my diagnosis and not you. Also, frankly, I think I've just given you the wrong impression of what is or might be between us. If I remember correctly it was you who said that we have certain responsibilities. Act like it for frak's sake,” she spat at him while agitatedly walking from one side to the other in front of his desk.

Then, giving him one last nasty glance over her shoulders, she stormed towards the hatch and was about to open it when she felt a strong hand on her left arm. When she angrily wheeled around, she was standing only inches apart from Bill who had now put his other hand on her right upper arm, gripping her tightly. She tried to wrestle herself out of his grasp, hissing at him. “Who do you think you are? Let me go. Now!” Bill, refusing to simply let her off the hook, replied with a quiet and steady voice:”I think we both know very well who I am. I am the closest friend you have here and I'm not giving up on you. Never will. Whatever frakking distance game you want to play. I know you're hurting and I know you're desperate. That your cancer is back does not only affect you and the whole fleet, but it also and in particular has an impact on me. And, in the end, I don't think you really want me to leave you alone,” he concluded, looking her straight in the eye.

Laura, who had not stopped trying to get out of his firm grip, now took a step towards him and their faces were only inches apart. With a cold smile on her face, she whispered:”Oh yes, that is exactly what I want. Neither do I want your pity, nor your comfort or help in the days to come. Now let me go or I'll scream my head off till your security detail storms in and you'll embarrass yourself even more.” As if he'd burned his fingers, Bill suddenly let go of her and, with a stony expression on his face, turned around and slowly walked back behind his desk, hearing the hatch open and then immediately close with a loud bang. Sighing, he sat down and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes, and then stared at the photo on the wall opposite him, revealing two people smiling into the camera. The professional collegiality was almost palpable, but so was the professional distance between them. When he heard the familiar buzzing sound, he was indeed happy about the distraction in CIC that would allow him to put his mind to other things and give his aching heart some rest.

Still fuming, she was sitting in her shuttle to Colonial One. Tory, who had joined her on the hangar deck again, was consciously avoiding eye contact with her boss, not wanting to have to ask about what was going on again. Laura had been rather brusque and irritated for some days now, and even if she knew that it was hard for the President to balance her duties and the news of her cancer having returned (which she had only told her and, as far as she knew, the Admiral), she hoped that she would display a more professional behaviour again soon. When they landed at their destination after a short and quiet journey, Laura stormed out of the shuttle without saying a word and hurried towards her office, closing the curtain that separated it from her private “quarters”.

Still slightly out of breath, she sat down on one of the armchairs, but immediately got up again to pace around the small space. Tearing her hair, she started mumbling. “What the frak was that about? What does he think he's doing with me? Why the hell does he feel entitled to know how I feel and what I want? He's so frakking full of himself! And I'm not dead yet anyway.” After that last sentence, though, she stopped dead in her tracks and suddenly she was struggling for breath. “I am not dead yet,” she repeated with a quavering voice. When she felt herself welling up, she could not hold back any longer and unexpectedly started weeping freely, throwing herself into the armchair next to her. All the desperation, hopelessness, fear and fury were washing over her and she felt like she was drowning in all those feelings she had pushed aside for too long, at least since the week before when a very sad-looking Doc Cottle had confronted her with the diagnosis that had left her legs and hands trembling even hours after she had returned from sickbay.

That was when Bill had come to one of their briefings and had found her sitting at her desk, face in her hands. Clearing his throat after a few moments, he had tried to carefully announce his presence and with a jolt, Laura had lifted her head and presented him with her face and eyes red and swollen from crying. He had not hesitated to come around her desk, take one of her cold hands into his, gently rubbing the back of it. “Laura, what's wrong?” he had quietly asked when she had looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. “Is there anything I can do for you?” She had closed her eyes for a moment and then whispered, her hand still buried between his two, “I wish there was. But it seems the Cylon DNA inside of me does not work as well as we had thought.” Processing her words, Bill's expression had quickly changed from one of compassion to one of utter shock. “You mean... your cancer... Laura,” he had rasped, not able to form a proper sentence. She had weakly pressed his hand, and after a few seconds had looked up at him again, with an expression on her face more grave than he had ever seen before, saying, “Yes, Bill, my cancer has returned.”

He had offered to stay with her for the rest of the evening since he was off duty and she didn't have any more meetings on her schedule after she had had them all cancelled immediately after her return from her appointment with Doc Cottle. With a small but sad smile on her face, however, she had declined, thanking him for the offer, but explaining that she'd rather have some time alone, which he had accepted. But she had known, deep inside, that it had broken his heart. And that was when she had cursed herself for ever having allowed him to get closer to her than necessary for their jobs. She had allowed him to see sides of her she hadn't shown anyone for a long time. Her weakness, her despair, her vulnerability. And she had sworn not to let him get any further, as well for his sake as also for her own. She had to focus her remaining strength on the well-being of the fleet, on finding Earth and not on whatever kind of private feelings might or might not have evolved between herself and the Admiral.

Now, however, when she thought back to that fateful day and to how she had treated him only moments ago, she hated herself for who she was. She hated herself for having pushed away the one person that, like he had said, really did care about her and wanted her to not be alone in what lay ahead of her. She hated herself for having said words that had obviously hurt him deep inside, just to rebuild the walls around her and regain the distance she had so desperately tried to maintain for many years. And for what? Self-protection? Protection of others? The dream of a planet they would or would not find in the end – if she was still alive when they made it, she added bitterly – to save humanity even if she could not save herself from nightmares of the people she had loved and lost? For a sense of dignity she expected of herself to retain in her position? Whatever kind of spite she had acted on earlier, she now deeply regretted having behaved the way she had, which made her feel even worse and her sobbing became increasingly uncontrollable until she felt so weak that she simply curled up into a ball, pulled the blanket by her side over her trembling body and after a while, completely exhausted, fell into a restless slumber.

When he returned from a rather uneventful shift in CIC several hours later and was about to open the hatch to his quarters, he lingered for a moment, his hands pressed against the cold metal. Abruptly, he turned around and made his way towards the hangar deck, got on the shuttle that had brought Laura back to Colonial One, and ordered the pilot to take him there as well without further explaining himself. During the short flight there, however, he started doubting whether what he was doing really was the right move, given that he knew when it was more prudent to give Laura some space and not push her. But he simply couldn't give up on her and knew that it was her defence mechanism that had insulted him earlier, so when he finally got off the shuttle and made his way to her office, he was determined to not be sent away again. When he stepped into the room that felt incredibly familiar by now, he detected Tory sitting in one of the chairs, notebook in hand, aggressively scribbling something.

Raising her head, she shot him a short glance and without any hint of surprise in her voice she addressed him. “Admiral. What can I do for you?” Without further ado, he replied. “I need to speak to the President, it's urgent business.” Tory put her notebook aside and slowly got up. “To be honest, Admiral, I don't really know whether this is the best of times. She's been in there,” she added with a nod of her head in the direction of the curtain behind the desk, “for hours and I think she might be asleep.” Not willing to be sent away by the President's assistant, he simply raised a hand and stated with a firm voice, “I'm sure she won't fire you, Tory, if you simply pretend to not have seen me. Rest assured, I have no attention of assassinating her.” The presidential aide, pinching the bridge of her nose, finally just shrugged her shoulders and sat back in her chair. “Don't say I haven't warned you, Admiral,” she concluded quietly and focused on the paperwork in front of her again.

With a curt nod, he acknowledged her statement and then made his way towards the curtain, carefully pushing it aside when he reached it. He didn't need to look for Laura: she was lying curled up on the armchair in front of him, still fully dressed, under a blanket. Her forehead was covered in beads of sweet and it seemed like she was not sleeping peacefully since she was entangled in the blanket and he could see her face and legs twitching. Slowly, he made his way towards her and kneeled in front of the armchair. He gently pushed the damp strands of hair out of her face and struggled against the urge to kiss her. Instead, he carefully tried to rearrange the blanket around her now trembling body and took several tissues from the package on the table next to her to dab her forehead and her face, tenderly stroking her hair with the other hand.

After a while, her breathing slowed down and she suddenly opened her eyes and blinked at him in confusion. Then an expression of fear and shame washed over her face and she sat up, turning away from him. Bill's hand, however, that he had quickly pulled back when she woke up, slowly came up to her cheek and, cupping it, he softly turned her face towards him again. “Laura. Look at me.” Her eyes, which had been cast down, slowly found his and she pressed her lips together, with an expression on her face that could only be described as haunted.

Taking a deep breath, she quietly said “Bill, I am so sorry,” and looked down again at her hands that lay trembling in her lap. Bill followed the movement of her eyes and took both her hands in his, drawing circles across her sweaty and cold palms with his thumbs. “It's okay, Laura,” he rasped, still looking at her, aching for her to forgive herself and to just be there in the present moment, with him. One of is hands came up to carefully push some of the strands that had fallen back into her face away again and slowly he leaned towards her, pressing a gentle kiss on her temple. He could feel her stiffen for a moment, but then she closed her eyes and relaxed into his hand which was now gently rubbing her back and she finally leaned into him, releasing the breath she had been holding. “It's okay, Laura. I'm here now. And I'm not leaving.”

 


End file.
